Number 18: Endocrinologist, Fellow & Lycanthrope Victim
by ArtisticGallifreyan
Summary: Number 18 wants her humanity back. She wants to get back on track, and an open opportunity with House is the way to do it. It's risky, it's bold and with her lycanthropy affliction dictating a large portion of her life, it surely won't be easy. Can she win a job with House, while keeping work and life at a safe distance? Being a doctor isn't easy, but a werewolf? And House? Oh no.
1. Prologue

_I suppose resuming a normal life was the normal thing to do. _

_I mean, did I honestly expect myself to sit around with my hands planted on my ass for the rest of my life?_

_I guess I won't know if I won't try…_

_Right?_

Quite often I found myself questioning why I was where I was, and why I _chose _to be where I currently was. I felt out of place, out of mind and incredibly out of my comfort zone as I sunk further back into the hard plastic of the chair. I chose to avoid glancing at either side of me to view the other 'competition' as it were that remained in this little game House had devised for his own personal pleasure. Right now, I was just number 18 amidst 6 other potential-fellows that remained.

Right now, I _wasn't _Cora Harmlet.

Not according to House anyway. I didn't take it personally though… He hadn't invited us all here to take part in a group story-telling activity where we could all exchange details of our hobbies and then laugh about it over an open campfire following a hard-day's work. _Although_, that would be quite a nice environment to work in. _Rather_, he'd invited us here based on our skills, our drive and our persistence to gain his attention. We all _wanted _to be here, and we yearned to be close to one of, if not the greatest Diagnostician in this country, perhaps the world. Of course, my recent disconnect from humanity hadn't quite upped my odds in terms of me gaining a spot as one of his understudies.

Now, I'd been quite careful and particular in putting my job application together when I applied for this job. A flourishing career as an endocrinologist, 6 years of 'blank' and now this tended to raise a few eyebrows when it came to re-asserting myself back into the workforce. And to set the record straight, I didn't have a kid, I didn't have a record and I wasn't on the run from any European criminal syndicates. The 'blank' in my life I so delicately attempted to cover up with fraudulently fabricated small part-time jobs, falsified travel documents and a list of agreed-alibis almost as long as the glossary of a dictionary was enough to keep people from prying too far into my personal life.

Except House.

Of course I knew the man was brilliant, highly intelligent and exceptionally curious when it came to mysteries; otherwise he wouldn't be into diagnostic medicine. However when it came to hiding certain aspects of my life, I often thought of myself as a brick wall. Many had commented in the past that I was often the hardest to read, hiding my true persona behind those crystal blue eyes of mine I valued so dearly.

So did I expect House to go digging, prying and cracking into my own personal secrets? Of course I did, I wasn't _stupid_. I knew exactly what he was like. In fact, it was probably the only reason I was still here and hadn't been put on the chopping block. No doubt mine was one of the first to be shortlisted, most likely due to the 6 suspicious years I cared not to bring up.

But, while he was exceptionally good at what _he _did, I was exceptionally _better _at what I did, and that wasn't allowing my personal life to crossover into my newest attempt to slide myself back into a certain degree of normalcy, and possibly scraping back a little humanity on the side.

So the question beckoned, exactly _what _happened in those 6 years of my life that I chose not to disclose openly and freely among my peers. It was… Well, extremely and entirely complicated. Actually, take the world _complicated _and enhance it by a few thousand factors. It was fair to say in those 6 years I lost a part of my humanity, and it somehow managed to pull it back towards me. But it wasn't _all that bad_, because I'd gained a part of me to. Often I would curse and cringe at the thought of it, and habitually tried to fight it, but eventually I slowly and surely learnt to accept it.

This 'issue' I suffered had a name. I didn't like thinking it, I never said it and when it came up on a TV show or a movie I simply flicked over to the next channel.

_Lycanthropy._

Also commonly known as being a 'werewolf'. I hated the word, I cringed at the thought and there were times when I found myself having a good, hard chuckle because _clearly_, this 'had' to be a joke. But when my body started to ache as the cycle began to kick into gear, the laughing stopped.

And just to clarify a few little misconceptions from what you've seen on TV or read in a book, I don't become a mindless, blood-seeking mutant wandering the streets and tearing out the abdomens of anyone unfortunate to wander nearby. My cycles aren't specifically monthly and bound by the chains of the full moon (although it does play it's part), and I don't have a constant, undying lust for blood. To _clarify_, when I shift, I am aware of my surroundings. My human mind is stable and coherent, sharing a room with the inner 'wolf' who (even in my human form) has unfortunately 'blessed'me with certain animalistic instincts and rarely, certain behaviors most often limited to the canine variety (nothing serious, except setting off every animal in the vicinity if I approached them).

Certain aspects such as aggression and higher doses of adrenaline haunted me in that form, yet over time (especially in those 6 years) I had gained greater control over the shift. It still felt like a thousand knives were being plunged into every inch of skin and slowly being twisted as my body contorted and twisted into its new shape. Muscle density increased, chemicals pumping through me like I were partying at a Rave hosted by Wiz Khalifa and blood often spurting out from every orifice as organs failed and un-failed while I would be forced to carry it through until the end.

But to be entirely honest, I was quite proud of the finished product. I wasn't a cute, little fluffy puppy like something out of Twilight (no offense Jacob), and I wasn't an anorexic bipedal stick-man who looked like they'd lost a battle with shaving cream and a razor (Remus Lupin, I still admire you for how J.K made you). Think more _Underworld_.

I was tall, muscular and thankfully both bipedal, yet I could move swiftly and powerfully better on all fours as a wolf would do upon bolting in the midst of the hunt. My skin would drop a few pigments in shade to a demonized black, and was covered in a thin layer of dark fur, although still allowing the skin to be revealed beneath. My hands and feet were elongated, with razor sharp claws extending from each bone structure on the front limbs was familiarly human, yet the bones and joints of my lower limbs had the distinct outline, much similar to a wolf yet still holding human qualities. And my face held qualities from both species. Ears were refined to a slender point; my jaw extended to an almost-canine muzzle hiding deadly teeth and both the iris and pupil blending in to a lethal combination of black. So, like I said before; think _Underworld_. To be fair, they're about the only movie that practically nailed it spot on the head when it came to werewolf folklore and popular culture. Doesn't mean I could bring myself to watch it after 'this' happened though.

Fortunately for me, I maintained my human form _most _of the time. I wasn't anything to rave about really, just a 5'7" brunette with shoulder-length hair, 99% of the time tied back into a convenient pony tail. I was of a slender build, displaying no real 'assets' and had one of those 'plain' faces, with the exception of my crystal blue hues that appeared as my one striking feature. I was attractive to some degree with no major blemishes, but usually the first to blend into a crowd. I didn't mind it, in fact I was thankful for it and it generally drew less attention towards me, but there was something about the full moon that gave me a little more 'presence' in a room. Whether it be pheromones, a touch of added-attitude or just coincidence, I couldn't be sure. But it lined up generally every full moon.

The thing about my cycles and the full moon was a complicated one. _Yes, _we were bound by the whole 'power of the moon' concept, so it was often around the time of the full moon when I would feel my body force the shift a little more aggressively, but we weren't **slaves **to it. I could often force my change at will, and sometimes forgo it, but certain instincts inside me led me to do it on a weekly basis. Otherwise I found myself to be moody, irritable or just honestly a bit of an asshole.

So, in a large and convoluted nutshell, that was me. That is me today, and I have been 'me' since 6 years ago. The 'bite'is another story in itself, and I might be so inclined to share if I wasn't sitting in a room, twiddling my thumbs as I waited for House to stroll in and start picking away at our personalities, piece by piece.

This may make me anxious, and I may feel uncomfortable sitting here, but what brought a small smirk to my face was the fact that while I sat here with all these other people, I could momentarily forget about my issue. Right now, I was number 18, and nothing more, nothing less.


	2. Classroom Discussion

I twiddled my thumbs with a tad anxiety while I waited to receive yet another day of sentencing from a man who was clearly enjoying this game a little too much for my liking.

"So, you've been kind of quiet since you started…" A voice broke my train of thought, so I flickered my attention to the shorter, bald man sitting one seat behind and a few seats over. "I don't even think you've mentioned your name?"

I smirked. Conversation wasn't really something I went out of my way for, although these days I tried not to become too much of a recluse. Recluses tended to draw attention. Attention tended to be irritating. Irritating tended to be… Well, you get the idea.

"Taub, isn't it?" I locked eyes with his, and for a moment I was sure it came across as a little bit of a glare, another little vice I had been working on.

He nodded. "I see you've heard of me. So, your name?"

"I don't really see how my name is relevant…" Oh god, I always found a way to hit it off when it came to playing nice in the metaphorical playground. "I'm a number, this is a game and we're pawns on the chessboard. I'm sure you would have figured that out at our first classroom meeting with the now-evicted 20-something other survivors from the Island"

"Pretty sure chess isn't played with 7 pieces." The blonde sitting upright, prim and proper said as she twisted around in her chair to face me.

"Pretty sure chess isn't an effective metaphor when describing this psychological experiment designed for our own torture." Now the female brunette decided to pitch in. _Great_. Just what I needed… A group conversation _other _than a differential.

"So, your name?" Now it was the one known as 'Kutner' who spoke up. I let out a small sigh of frustration. _Come on, when is House going to get here?_ In fact, the only one who had really kept their mouth shut was the one who seemingly had some level of similar power to House, although sadly got picked on the _most_.  
I almost felt sorry for him.

_Almost_.

"Eighteen."

"That's not a name."

"A rose by any other name could also be a number." I gave the other prying 'family members' a side-glance and then returned to slumping casually in my chair.

"In what world does that even make sense?" The blonde gave me what could almost be described as a sneer, which was followed shortly by a very prominent eye roll.

"Mine." I let out a deep and ominous sigh. _This was going to be a long day…_

"We already havesomebody who chooses to go as a number. Er-go 'Thirteen'" Taub motioned to the brunette nearby. "If we're going to be working closely together, a little bit of conversation back and forth couldn't really do you a great deal of harm and-"

"Look." I switched my attention back to Taub. "You seem nice. I'm also nice, but I'm just not the social type. And I don't see anywhere in my job description that requires me to give up my name…"

"So _how _many people did you kill at your last hospital?" The blonde had a tone in her voice that was a mixture of sweet, far from sincere and psychopathic. Of course, I knew she was being beyond sarcastic, but it didn't faze me. Dealing with idiots was part of the job.

The group cohort fixed their attention to me. _Great_. "And what part of me being anti-social somehow implies that I'm secretly a mass murderer? Wandering to each hospital to feed a lust that only flesh can satisfy?"

Eyebrows were raised, but the sarcasm was thick through my voice. "Or was it just that psychopathic look I have fixed permanently to my face? Although..." I chuckled, tapping my pen on the side of the chair as I did so. "I'm pretty sure the title of psychopath, _well_…" I smirked. "'Cut-Throat bitch' has already been taken. Sorry Amber…"

That didn't exactly measure too well with the blonde, but she wasn't about to lay down and throw up the white flag of surrender _just yet_. "So you're hiding something then. What, get fired from your last job?"

Now I couldn't help but have a bit of a chuckle. Oh, she had me _all figured out_. "Nope. Just a bit of advice though…" I learnt forward, and flashed Amber one of the most sarcastic smiles I could force out at will. "Desperate isn't a good look on you. I know you want to win the game, but in past examples the player tense enough to blow a coronary always tends to be the first to fail."

See, _this _was why I chose not to interact unless I had to. Especially when the full moon was due to show in about 5 days. Like I said, I wasn't a slave to it, but it still had a way of making me a little more irritable. So keeping quiet was often the easiest thing to do.

"Now I _know _you're hiding something." Amber spun back around in her chair, and finallykept quiet. Silence was indeed golden, but a distant friend often felt the need to correct me with the phrase 'yes, but duct-tape is silver'. We were no longer since acquainted – But not due to his lousy one liners.

"So your name?" Taub clearly hadn't gained the hint.

"Eighteen."

"Name?" Again, he just didn't. Give. Up.

"Co- Oh wait, you _almost_ had me there." I shrugged, and twiddled my thumbs anxiously while I waited. Seriously, where was this guy? 

"Eighteen, eighteen and eighteen. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but my parents gave me a number for a name. Said something about it strengthening my character if were _actually _a statistic… But I don't know why. Look." I locked eyes with Taub again. "Drop it, sit down, shut up and if I'm lucky, one or two of us will be fired by the end of this day. Hopefully not me, although I can't say I'll be too bummed if it happens, because at least I'll be away from prying noses who can't seem to understand the boundaries between home, and work."

"We're not asking to be your friend, just asking to-"

"Get to know me?" I flicked my attention to Kutner. He seemed sweet, but in an irritable and annoying way. "I appreciate the gesture, but I don't want it. You know what I do want? A way for you to stop asking questions!" 

"SO!"

A booming voice shot through the auditorium, instantly turning heads towards the flame-cane laden man who limped into view. I had to admit; at this point I had been slowly drifting off into a slightly extended daydream about my unfortunate alter ego. It was funny, the more I tried _not _to think about it, the more it attempted to claw for my attention. 

"Not many left…" House scanned the audience, and used his cane to help prop himself onto the desk behind him, allowing his legs and cane to swing down over the edge. "7 toys to play with, but according to 'Mommy' my toy box only has enough room for 3."

"15-year old boy, came in presenting with bite marks after an animal attack, high fever, seizures, and fluctuating temperatures ranging from near hypothermia to a high fever. Blood tests range from low white blood cell count, to high-"

"You can't have both." Kutner quipped.

"Thirteen can." House barely cracked a smile, but it lead me to have a bit of a silent chuckle at her expense.

"But really, you can't." Foreman decided to break his vow of silence and speak up. "A fever indicates infection, hypothermia indicates something else entirely. Low white blood cell count could an immune-compromised system, but high white blood cell count could indicate cancer."

Thirteen raised her arm. "Rabies?"

"Not quite, hasn't showed up in his serum count."

"Was he sick before the animal attack, or after?" All eyes shot towards me. "Does it hold any significance? Is it inflamed? Infected? Is it oozing, or has the animal been found?"

Dog attacks were one thing, but this _couldn't _be what I refused to believe it was. In fact, it hadn't even come to mind. When it came to the depiction of 'our' kind in movies and the general entertainment industry, they practically depicted a werewolf attack as something that could happen anywhere, to anyone and **only **on the full moon. But - Incorrect! And why? Well, setting aside the fact that werewolves were 'clearly' not a threat to be taken seriously by (mostly due to their current mythological status), we were actually quite low in numbers. I myself had only met one, and he hadn't planned on sticking around for the introductory tutorial after he left me bleeding on the side of a highway with pints of blood spilling onto the asphalt. And to think, if my car hadn't decided to snap the radiator belt, I'd have 6 years of my life that I could openly account for.

So clearly, it could only be said that my knowledge of werewolves were based on my own experiences. I hadn't met any packs; I hadn't run through the moonlit forests with my brethren on a hunt, and I hadn't had any support from the moment those teeth tore my flesh. I didn't have a handbook to consult, a mentor or a 'watcher' like Giles (Although that said, I'm glad the world didn't seem as grim as Buffy's did). I _knew _there were obviously others like me, but for all I knew, they probably had no knowledge or interest about me.

For all I knew, I might one day become a mindless beast and the next change could easily be my last. Ever since the bite many of my wolf-characteristics had begun to crossover to my human side. Slowly, subtly but it was _happening_. I had control, but for how long? Thoughts like that tended to scare me, but I had no other choice but to put my brave face on, and move on. And right now, I had no choice but to focus back on the present.

The blonde's narcissistic voice snapped me out of my trance. "Clearly _after _the animal attack." Amber gave an obvious sigh.

House pierced me with a concerned gaze. "Why would you say before?"

"It's an easy diagnosis to assume after, and yes – The animal bite could explain the fever and maybe even a few of the other symptoms, most likely passing on a pathogen that could cause a bit of mayhem internally but…" I tapped my pen, trying to think of the words to explain my answer. "It's too easy. It's possible it could just be covering for the real underlying cause. If we send this kid home with some antibiotics and a tissue for his sniffles, I have a feeling he's going to be returning in a body bag."

"That's a stupid diagnosis. The animal-"

"Is something you don't even know yet. Have they found the dog? Do they even know if the dog was sick? Where it had been?" I took a deep breath, trying to compose my thoughts and a valid argument. "I mean, Neutrophilia Leukocytosis could explain the high white cell count but alternatively Neutropenia from Lupus, Leukemia or heck, even hyperthyroidism could explain the low white cell count."

"Hyperthyroidism is a lame diagnosis." Amber just _had _to have the last word. "The kid is slightly overweight, showing _no _signs of weight loss, isn't hypoglycemic and doesn't display any common symptoms like polyuria, polydipsia or pretibial myxedema."

"I never said it was." I shot back, albeit in a slightly restrained and professional way. "I'm merely indicating that it could be a number of ailments and we can't just go for the easy diagnosis of the animal bite."

We all glanced back at House, who appeared to have a slightly bemused grin on his face as he stared back and forth between Amber and myself. "And to think, I have to pay for Cable to get this girl-on-girl action, but here at work I can watch it for free." He tapped his cane on the surface of the 'stage' and then raised it towards myself. "You."

I glanced from side to side and behind me, until I realized his cane was locked on me like a sniper aiming to shoot. But was this really so different?

"Me." I acknowledged, seemingly uninterested.

"Yes, you with the trust issues, or daddy issues…" He paused for a moment. "No, definitely trust issues. Go do the blood test." His eyes scattered the room, and his cane then locked locations with Taub. "Go with her, and see if you can use your powers over women to break through those trust issues." Rife with sarcasm as usual. At least, I _hoped _so.

"I don't have trust issues." I grumbled, but began sliding out my seat, where Taub unfortunately felt the need to follow behind.

"No, you definitely have trust issues." House added. "But don't feel left out. I like issues, because where there are issues there's conflict. Where there's conflict there's a reason. So with that, there's mystery. Thirteen is a Scooby adventure I'm already working on." He raised his eyebrows at the brunette, who sighed accordingly with a very prominent eye roll. "You however, haven't really said a word, excluding differentials since you started. Means you are _full _of mystery."

"I told you…" Amber hummed as I walked past. This team hadn't been so bad when the room was populated with twenty plus.

As I approached the door I paused and turned to House. I wasn't about to let him get in the last word without me accepting a witless defeat. "Or." I raised a finger, and prepared to mount my defense.

"It could simply mean I just don't like talking to people. It could mean I'm antisocial, a bit of a recluse and a bit of a cynic when it comes to people we treat. But-"

Here came surmountable retaliation strategy…

"I don't have trust issues. I know that there are two sides to every coin and people are no different. A lack of trust merely stems from a lack of knowledge and making petty assumptions." I sighed deeply. "_Believe me_ - most people are as transparent as a window, and I'm particularly good at reading others, so therefore – I don't. Have. Trust. Issues." And with that, I stormed out of the room with the bald man hesitating before giving an honest shrug, and scurrying out of the room.

Oh yes, _today was going to be a long day._


End file.
